


you're an anomaly (but i like you best)

by dailuzo



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailuzo/pseuds/dailuzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So men don't paint nails. That doesn't mean they <i>can't</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're an anomaly (but i like you best)

Kris rarely ever gives Joonmyun the time of the day, but even he has to admit that he owes the guy this time for covering for him during that meeting he was scandalously late for. It’s not like Joonmyun is asking for much anyway.

And it’s related to work too. Somewhat. In a really weird sort of way.

“She’s the daughter of a really important client,” Joonmyun tells him, lips pressed into a thin line the way it always does when he finds something to be particularly ridiculous.

“I know,” Kris says. “Soojung, right? We’ve met."

“Good. She wants a date with you. I told her yes.”

It takes a second for the words to make sense, another second for Kris to stare at the other man like he’s grown two heads.

“What?”

“It’s important. PR and everything, you know,” Joonmyun waves him off, trying to brush off the dumbfounded look from Kris’ face. “And it’s not exactly for her. The date is for a friend. She’s Chinese,” he adds helpfully towards the end, as if the sentence itself is a valid explanation.

“... So she wants to set her up on a date with me?”

“Not you, Kris. Soojung thinks you’re an ass,” Joonmyun laughs. Kris isn’t quite as amused. “Remember that friend you brought over for the company dinner the other day? She wants that one. He looks nice enough, and being Chinese is a plus.”

Oh. Luhan. Kris does have a habit of dragging him along for formal dinner sometimes. Or rather, Kris shoves him into everyone’s faces every chance he gets, if only because Luhan’s face is so pleasant to look at. Even the most hardened business veterans melt under the doe-eyed boy’s earnest gaze, and after that all it takes is a few intelligent proposals and some well-placed words on Kris’ side to secure a deal.

They make a good team, him and Luhan. Their friendship is probably the only good thing that came out from that rebellious phase he went through in high school.

“So it’s a double date?” he clarifies.

“Sort of? Only one party is taking this seriously, yeah,” Joonmyun hands over a piece of paper with a day, time and a phone number untidily scribbled in. “You don’t need to feel obliged to keep in touch or anything. Just show your face.”

Kris nods and slips the paper inside his pocket.

 

-

 

Luhan says yes. He always does, regardless of how distracted or indifferent his answer may be. Kris should stop expecting anything less.

“It's a proper date, you know,” he tells him. “You should take it more seriously.”

That isn't really true. The date is only proper If Luhan wants it to be; Joonmyun made that clear enough, but Kris has this bad habit of omitting unnecessary details.

Luhan turns his gaze away from the laptop screen, looks at him, and smiles wryly. From a distance, Kris can make out the words _Shitty Synthesizers in Mainstream Music_ on the document heading. He hopes Luhan doesn't accidentally forget to change the title when he turns the article in. (Kris doubts it'll make much of a difference, though, since most people working on the magazine are completely smitten by him already, much like everyone else in the world.)

“Instead of worrying about me, you should be more concerned over your wardrobe.”

“The hell is that supposed to—”

“You said we're going somewhere casual?” Luhan cuts him off, eyes glowing with delight that's always associated with Kris' misfortune in one way or another, “And what are you going to wear, Yifan? A suit?”

Of course Kris is going to wear a suit. He always wears suits. In fact, he's quite sure he doesn't own anything that's not a suit. It seems pretty wasteful to have it any other way when he spends most of his time—weekends or otherwise—cooped up in meetings, and the little friends he have are so used to him being the odd one out that they've stopped caring about him being overdressed whenever they meet up.

“There's the leather jacket—”

“The one you've been wearing since high school, you mean.”

He doesn't have anything to say to that.

“It's a nice jacket,” he retorts anyway, just for the sake of it.

“Hmm,” Luhan says in response before going back to focus on his article.

Kris' life is one of routine. He sleeps at twelve and wakes up at seven. It's hard to deviate much with a schedule as packed as his, especially when he's stuck in a position where his entire fortune might vanish overnight as a result of a careless oversight. When he exits his room, all dressed up and ready for work again, he sees Luhan asleep on the living room couch, the way he always does when he's chasing after a deadline, hair messed up and laptop hastily placed on the floor.

Kris doesn't wake him up until he's done with breakfast—scrambled eggs, canned baked beans, microwaved sausages, even he can't mess those up. He brews tea for himself but takes out a coffee he has stored amongst a dozen others in the fridge for Luhan, makes it a point to eat first, to finish his meal and do all the dishes before he proceeds to press the can of cold coffee against the elder's cheek, a plate of food held firmly in the other hand. Luhan wakes with a start.

“Shit,” he mutters as soon as he's coherent enough to speak, “What time is it?”

“Half past seven.”

Luhan lets out a string of colorful curses as he sits up, picks up his laptop and starts typing furiously, fingers moving from one key to another in rapid succession, barely sparing Kris a glance. He doesn't mind as much as he used to, way too accustomed to Luhan's habits by now to really give a damn about how single-track minded the latter can be at times. Kris takes a seat beside him and begins to slip food into Luhan's mouth.

“Deadline is in...?”

“Five hours,” Luhan tells him, then adds, morose, “I don't think I can ask Minseok to extend it for me anymore.”

“It's not a good idea to be too dependent on personal relations in the first place, when you're at work,” Kris replies.

Luhan lets out an indignant snort. “Shut up, you rich twat.”

Kris leaves the coffee on the table beside the couch, unopened. He's kind of late already, so he leaves the dishes in the sink for him to clean up later (or for Luhan to wash himself, if he's feeling thankful and charitable). Before he leaves the apartment, he takes a chance.

“Hey,” he says, voice firm and confident. He's always more comfortable in asking for favours when Luhan is busy and less likely to pay attention. “Why don't you pick out my clothes for me?”

Luhan doesn't stop working, but his brows are burrowed into a frown. Not exactly the best reaction but he supposes there are a million other ways in which it could have been worse.

“... For the date?” Luhan asks.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“We'll see.”

It's not exactly a promise, but it's probably the best he can hope for out of Luhan when it comes to things like this.

 

-

 

There's nothing manly about helping a guy out to choose an acceptable outfit for a date and Luhan has been pretty averse to all things stereotypically feminine for as long as Kris remembers, so when Sunday arrives without any mention of Kris' request, he assumes that silence is a show of Luhan's refusal.

Kris runs through his closet and finds nothing. Thinking that a shower might help in clearing his mind and sparking new fashion ideas, he heads towards the bathroom and lets himself be drenched under the gushing droplets of water, phone left on the bathroom counter to play hip hop songs on repeat on maximum volume.

When he comes out fifteen minutes later—wiped down, dried out and butt naked—he sees Luhan laying out clothes on his bed. He'd be grateful, except now he's a little overwhelmed with feeling a bit too exposed, so rather than words of gratitude the only thing that comes out of his mouth is fuck as he storms back into the bathroom and grabs the towel hanging by the door.

Luhan doesn't even flinch. He seems more amused over the fact that Kris is trying so hard.

“Nice,” he says, though whether it's a comment on his body or his agility Kris isn't quite sure. “And hey, I have what you have. No need to get all embarrassed about nothing.”

“Some people have this thing called modesty,” Kris hisses, arms still busy trying to wrap the towel securely around his waist.

Luhan raises a questioning brow.

“You never seemed to care about that whenever you flaunt your—”

“It all depends on the context, Luhan, _Jesus_ ,” Kris says, exasperated, “and I don't flaunt. Can you please get the hell out of my room?”

Luhan appears slightly affronted over the fact that he's so unwelcomed, grumbles about _unappreciative brats_ all the way as he stomps over to Kris' bedroom door and slams it behind his back. Kris doesn't get it, doesn't understand until he notices the clothes on his bed still wrapped in plastic, price tags sticking out from the openings at the corner of the cover.

“Are these new?” Kris asks as soon as he leaves the room, after he's done putting everything on. He looks good, miles better than whatever sort of fashion failure he would have put himself through. Admitting this to Luhan is the last thing he'll do, of course. Luhan's ego is already inflated enough as it is without any extra help.

“No. I just wrapped them up for fun,” Luhan deadpans, unimpressed, “If you aren't so tall, you could have just borrowed some of mine.” He then proceeds to give Kris a once-over. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nah,” he replies, the usual guileful smile plastered on his face, “Just thinking that even someone like you can stop looking like a pompous asshole if you try hard enough.”

Whatever intention Kris had of thanking the other man completely dries up in his throat at the statement, so he settles for a glare and muttered curses under his breath in the myriad of languages he knows, fluent or not. Luhan just laughs.

But honestly, Luhan's the one who doesn't try hard, because he looks exactly the same as he would for those weekly noraebang excursions he goes on with Tao and Minseok, lurking around areas in the shadier parts of town. These trips are one of the many things in Luhan's life that Kris isn't privy to—not that he'd enough time to care—but ends up knowing about anyway, because they always end up finishing the day slumped against his front door, with Tao and Luhan drunk out of their wits and Minseok throwing him an apologetic glance as he dumps them both on a random sofa.

He still looks good though. He always does.

 

-

 

Luhan keeps staring, and for a minute Kris is a little confused.

Son Qian is a nice girl; a great one even, evident by the way she pays attention to people like every single word matters even when they start talking about things she doesn't quite understand. She's pretty too, pleasant on the eyes and elegant, armed with slightly accented Korean but impeccable Chinese, and she might be older than them both but the air of maturity she brings with her more than makes up for it.

Kris has heard of these types women before, has the traits drilled into his mind courtesy of his forever fussing mom, who seems more and more upset each year he comes back to China without bringing a significant other. _The ideal woman_ , she calls them, _when you get hold of one, Yifan, make her love you and never let go_.

But Luhan isn't Kris, and they've never talked about the characteristics of their ideal woman but he's pretty sure Luhan doesn't have one.

(Neither does Kris, for that matter. The type that sticks to his head is really something he's conjured up from what he deems he's supposed to want. He doesn't really care one way or another.)

Then he sees it: the cheerful colours adorning the edge of Son Qian's fingers, the patterns carefully traced along the surface of her nails. And he looks again and sees the way Luhan's eyes shine, eyes wide and curious, lighting up like how they always do when he's stuck on a particularly tough page of _Sudoku_.

Kris doesn't mention anything, and perhaps he wasn't planning to do much about it until Luhan gets up and excuses himself to go to the men's room and Kris realizes that it's an opportunity. He takes a deep breath; he should be used to it by now, being surrounded by calculating business figures all his life, but there's really nothing he hates more than being judged, especially when it concerns him in a private setting as opposed to his working persona.

He forces the thoughts out of his mind and asks: “Where do you get your nails done?”

Though Son Qian is obviously taken aback, the warm smile on her face never wavers. Another ideal trait, he almost hears his mom saying, and he can't help but admire her composure.

But it's Soojung who answers him. Soojung, who never hesitates to make her opinions (or dislikes) known, who Kris has never really gotten along with because they belong to the opposite ends of a spectrum despite sharing similar backgrounds. The same Soojung is looking at him with newfound respect, like she's seeing him for the first time in her life, even though she's spent most of the night scowling and glaring daggers at him whenever he starts asking about her dad.

“I've never pegged you as the type,” she says cheerfully, and he thinks this is probably the first time her smile is directed his way. “I know a better place. It looks kind of dodgy, but they cater for men and there'll be less people nosing into your affairs, if you know what I mean.”

He's not the kind Soojung is referring to, but Kris makes no attempt to correct the assumption. He has a bad habit of omitting unnecessary details, after all.

Soojung types something into her phone and sends it to him after demanding for his number. Somewhere in the middle of everything, Luhan returns to his seat, confused at the sudden display of warmth Soojung is showering Kris with but too polite to mention anything about it. Son Qian beams at his appearance. They're both similar in that aspect, Kris notices: their eyes betray their emotions far too easily.

During dessert, when everyone has more or less warmed up to each other and the mood is considerably lighter, Soojung looks at Luhan in the eye and states: “You're way too pretty for a guy.”

Son Qian laughs. It's a refined laugh, but it's the loudest thing they've heard from her all night. Kris feels rather than sees Luhan tensing up beside him.

“He looks like this,” Kris cuts in, “But back in high school he was the soccer team's ace.”

“Really?” Son Qian seems interested. She had mentioned doing sports in school too, if Kris remembers correctly.

Luhan smiles and nods without turning to Kris, but there's a nudge he gives under the table, and Kris thinks it's as good as a thank you.

 

-

 

He ends up walking along a packed street in Myeongdong on a Friday evening, fresh out of a meeting and severely overdressed. It takes him a while to find the location of the address Soojung supplied him with, but once he does he stops in his tracks.

The shop is dark and uneventful, a stark difference from the colourful row of buildings around it, and the curtains are drawn in such a manner that Kris can't see anything inside. He starts to have second thoughts—maybe now's not a good time, maybe Soojung made a mistake, maybe he should try some place a little more... classy—but before he can begin to retract his steps and walk away, someone puts a hand on his shoulder from behind.

Kris jumps.

The culprit is a pleasant-looking man, a backpack slung over his shoulders. He peers at Kris curiously.

“Hello,” he greets with a dimpled smile, “What can I do for you today?”

“I—” Kris tries, but the mysterious man clasps a hand firmly around his wrist and drags him inside without waiting for him to explain himself.

“It's hard to talk with so many people outside!” the stranger screams over the noise when Kris throws him a frantic look.

The shop, surprisingly, is open, or Kris assumes it is when the man kicks the door open with little effort. There's no one inside but the lights are on, and the man gives him another smile as he introduces himself as Yixing and tells Kris to take a seat. He does, albeit hesitantly.

“Don't let the gloominess turn you off. Jongdae turns off all the flashy lights outside when he wants to sleep on the job,” Yixing says as he moves his head towards one of the closed doors. “He's probably somewhere there, napping.”

“You let him...?” Kris seems dumbfounded.

“Well, it's his salon,” Yixing shrugs. “And he pays well. As long as the money keeps flowing, I'm not going to complain.” Before Kris can manage to compute what's happening, Yixing begins inspecting his fingernails. “So, what are you here for? Manicure? Pedicure? Both?”

Kris blinks.

“Wait, _you_ 're in charge of all the... nail stuff?” he's asking. Yixing nods, smiles, tilts his head to the side as if asking ' _is there something wrong with that_?' Kris has always thought that no one other than Luhan can pull off the innocently threatening look (except for cartoons, maybe, but they don't count). He stands corrected. “Aren't they usually... girls?”

“The people who come around asking for 'nail stuffs' tend to be girls too, you know, but you don't see me complaining.”

“I'm not complaining,” Kris flushes red. “I'm just taking it in.”

“First timer then,” Yixing says. “Don't worry. Just leave everything to me.”

The next one hour passes by in a flash. Yixing soaks both his hands and feet in herb-scented water and works on shaping and buffing his nails with such dilligence that he stops talking altogether. Somewhere around the third finger of Kris' second hand, Jongdae walks out of the room, eyes groggy and tinged with sleep.

“Whoa, suit guy,” Jongdae states, still stuck in a sleepy daze. “Don't see much of you around.”

He doesn't stick long, walks back to the room and slams it shut as soon as he sees that there aren't any customers for him to handle.

“Who _do_ you see around?” Kris asks once Jongdae is away.

“Don't see guys all that much, really,” Yixing admits. “If they do come in, they're either chefs or celebrities. They're all regulars though. We rarely get new faces.”

The whole experience is surprisingly underwhelming. Sure it feels nice to get a hand massage, and his nails are all nice and shiny now too, but that's about it. Throughout the whole thing, Kris keeps expecting it to hurt (don't they always say that? That girls have to undergo pain for beauty?). It doesn't. It's all terribly confusing.

“And you're done!” Yixing exclaims, looking content.

And Kris is happy, because it's not as bad as he thought it'll be. No one will even notice that he's done something different if he walks out now, not unless they pay careful attention to the fact that his nails glow under the light... and if they're anything like him, they won't.

But that's not the point, is it? Kris isn't there to have a taste of what a nail salon treatment feels like, and Luhan wasn't staring just because Son Qian's fingers were shiny, out of all things.

So he asks, “Can you paint them?”

Yixing's face breaks into a grin.

 

-

 

Kris doesn't know what to expect from his friends now that his nails are painted black, but admiration is the last thing on his mind.

Admiration is what he gets, oddly, from an overexcited Huang Zitao.

“It looks so good, _ge_ ,” Tao coos. “Can I get it done on me too?”

Minseok is less ecstatic, but it's nothing personal.

“It really doesn't make a difference to me whether you choose to paint your nails or not, Kris,” he says, and he sounds tired, but Kris would be too if he's stuck with the task of caring for two adult babies. Between that and Minseok's job as an editor, he might as well just render babysitting services.

Luhan just stares. Stares stares stares like he's done to Son Qian before, except this time instead of fascination his gaze is filled with disbelief. At a lost on what to do and unwilling to make things more awkward than it already is, Kris splays his fingers out in front of Luhan's face. He isn't much of a people person and approval doesn't mean as much to him as it probably should, but Tao's and Minseok's positive reactions have to count for _something_ , for Luhan if not for himself.

“Real men paint nails,” Kris tells him, angling his fingers to a position that can properly boast Yixing's efforts.

Luhan's expression is kept carefully blank. There's something in his gaze though, something Kris never bothers—never dares—to put a name to.

“You notice the most ridiculous things,” Luhan says.

Kris isn't sure he understands.

As it turns out, Kris doesn't need to bother with doing any convincing because Tao does his job for him, jumping from person to person until everyone agrees to accompany him to 'that awesome place Kris-ge just found' purely out of annoyance.

“We should all get our nails done!” Tao suggests, tone clouded with excitement. “Can you imagine, Lu-ge? They'll look nice on you!”

Luhan lets out a forced smile, Kris frowns, and Minseok, ever reliable Minseok, takes one look at Kris and easily understands what he's getting at. He gives Luhan's shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Sounds cool,” Minseok says, lips spread into an easy grin. “I might give it a try too.”

“You wouldn't,” Luhan replies. “Your girlfriend will flip.”

Minseok shrugs. “Not after she sees how much hotter I become.”

 

-

 

Kris goes back to Yixing's place on a Sunday. By then, most of the paint has chipped off. He probably should have taken Yixing more seriously when he tells him to take extra care of your nails, don't do things too roughly! but Yixing doesn't look like he minds too much. Doesn't even ask why he's asking for the polish to be removed after only two days of applying them.

“Will you be around on Saturday?”

“Hmm?” Yixing looks up from brushing some liquid onto the surface of his nails. “I'm here all year round, since I live upstairs. Are you bringing friends over? We get a little lazy on weekends but it's nothing a call won't fix. Do you have my number?”

Talking to Yixing is easy. He's both a good listener and a fluent speaker, effortlessly switching from one role to another in accordance to whatever his present company is comfortable with. It reminds Kris of Luhan somewhat, the way he seams into high class intricacies when he's around Kris' acquaintances but falls back so easily into his own pace when he's with his own.

Kris isn't much of a talker by nature, so he listens as Yixing complains about Jongdae, as he shares about the interesting customers that drop by the salon every other day before somehow ending up complaining about Jongdae again ( _ah really why am I the only one doing all the work here_ ), listens again as Yixing lists out the places he wants to visit in South Korea but never had a chance to.

“Have you been in Korea long?”

“Just slightly over ten years, I think,” Kris answers, going over the years in his head.

“That was forever ago! Guess I know where your accent flew off to now,” the other man remarks. “Was it lonely when you got here? I can't imagine myself living in a foreign country if Jongdae wasn't around to keep me company in the first few months. And even then I called home nearly every single day.” Yixing gives him a sheepish smile.

“Ah, no. I have a friend from the same high school. We studied here together,” Kris says. “Neither of us have any plans on moving back. We have our jobs now.”

Yixing nods in acknowledgement before his eyes flickers in delight.

“This friend of yours...” he says, “... will he be here on Saturday?” Kris tells him yes. “Is he anything like you?”

“No,” Kris laughs. “No, he's nothing like me.”

“What's he like?”

“He's very manly,” Kris states, voice firm.

“Oh?” Yixing sounds confused, but not judging, his eyes still trained on Kris' fingers. “But he doesn't mind coming over to a place like this?”

There's a pause.

“He tries very hard,” Kris says finally.

“I see.”

Yixing is both a good speaker and a good listener, but he never pries. Kris likes that about him.

The moment Kris arrives home, he's greeted by a friendly text from Yixing.

_No need to worry about your friend this weekend. He'll be in good hands :)_

 

-

 

Tao's Korean-speaking ability leaves a lot to be desired, which is probably why he finds it a good idea to barge into the shop, take the hands of an unsuspecting Jongdae in his own over the counter and say, “Color me blue!”

“Which blue?” Jongdae asks, not missing a beat, and he grins as he takes out a catalogue from the shelf behind him and shows it to a wide-eyed Tao. The latter practically squeals in happiness, flipping from page to page in great joy. Minseok sighs fondly and makes his way over before the youngest can manage to get his nails painted in a hundred different shades.

Luhan is giving Kris an odd look.

“Didn't know you go to places like this,” he comments, tone oddly accusing.

“Maybe there's a lot of things about me you don't know,” Kris tries, knowing it's a lame attempt. It doesn't work. Luhan's eyes narrow.

“That's not true and you know it,” Luhan says, wary. “Did you actually ask Son Qian to tell you—”

“No,” Kris replies, curt, because in a way it's kind of true. Son Qian didn't say a thing. Soojung was the one who did all the talking.

It's obvious Luhan doesn't believe him, but he lets the subject drop, much to Kris' relief. They're quickly welcomed by a beaming Yixing, who grins at Kris and grins even wider at Luhan, and proceeds to successfully capture the latter's heart by making use of his heavy Changsha dialect.

Yixing has done something to his nails. So has Jongdae, Kris notices, because whereas they've only been clean, tidy and buffed before, they're way more elaborate now, with decals on the former and stamps on the latter. It's an act done as a favor, perhaps. Yixing might not have completely understood what Kris was getting at, but he cares enough to try. And maybe if everyone jumps into the weird bandwagon, Luhan will be less reluctant to come along for the ride.

Luhan is conflicted but Yixing is convincing, so he eventually sticks with black. Black is safe. Black is powerful in whatever context it's used in, and Kris didn't look too bad when he had it on him last week so Luhan is willing to try. Kris sits beside Luhan and tells Yixing to match them as a pair, but Jongdae gets to him first and manages to slap a funky pink on him when Kris is busy dozing off. Kris flips him the finger.

“I'm gorgeous,” Tao says when Jongdae is done with him, and he's so pleased with the final product that he immediately sends a selca to his best fashion buddies Sehun and Baekhyun. Jongdae is promised a return trip soon after, with Tao assuring that he's going to have another two customers in tow.

In the end, everything works out for the best. Kris also finds himself at the receiving end of extremely generous discounts.

“You're good for business,” Yixing says simply, who then adds: “I think today went okay.”

“Me too,” he agrees.

He comes back the next day, nails still tragically pink. Yixing is there like he always is but it's Jongdae who does the removal work for him this time.

It's a bad thing. Jongdae isn't nearly as mild with jests as Yixing is. And apparently he's also incapable of shutting up.

“Aww, ain't this cute? Transforming into one person in your free time and another person for work; it's like you're Superman.”

Kris is not a fan of comics but he's pretty sure that's not how Superman works. Jongdae is full of shit. Kris tells him as much.

“Whatever. I think I know who your Lois Lane is anyway.”

Kris doesn't say anything back, not much point in doing so when Jongdae isn't making the least bit of sense. But even if Jongdae _is_ trying to be insightful, Kris thinks he has it the wrong way round: Luhan is the one with the cloak; Kris is just one of the many people who thinks he doesn't need a disguise.

 

-

 

With Tao's growing obsession with the art of nail painting, Jongdae's Nail Salon becomes their new hang out spot.

No one has any qualms about that. Tao busies himself with trying out new designs every other day anyway, and even if Minseok has had his share of metrosexuality he still enjoys seeing Jongdae and Yixing at work. The two nail technicians are pretty cool too, especially when they're not busy trolling everyone in sight or acting stoned.

Luhan comes by quite a bit. In the beginning it was only to watch, but it's hard for him to hide his interest in something when he's surrounded by it nearly every second of the day, so eventually Yixing manages to goad him into doing it himself. It's always either matte or crème polish—nothing too elaborate or fancy, definitely not anything close to the stuffs Tao and Baekhyun seem to take pleasure in trying.

He's still pretty pleased about it. Kris figures as much when he starts to notice trends in Luhan's choice of nail colors—blue when he's nearing a deadline, purple after a job well done, yellow when he's feeling particularly cheery, black when his work (or Kris) is being difficult—and he guesses it's easier for Luhan to be more open about these things when he works so much from home.

(He still uses winter to his advantage though, hiding his hands under gloves and refusing to take them off unless it's absolutely necessary, nor does he apply any when Kris takes him out to the usual company dinners.)

Kris joins him in the art whenever he can. His schedule has been a drag lately and in between proposals and samples he rarely pops out from his office, but he appears when he has time to spare and agrees to become Jongdae's practice dummy.

“You don't need to pay,” Jongdae had told him. “And you remove them on Sundays anyway so it's not like it'll make a difference. Did I mention the fact that I'll _forever_ be indebted to you for your help in honing my skills?”

Kris only says yes because Jongdae threatens to glue fake nails on him otherwise.

He also develops a habit of staring at Luhan's fingers, especially in the mornings where the light hits him just right and Kris just can't turn away. Luhan catches him in the act more than once, laughs between bouts of slumber and consciousness and splays his fingers in front of Kris' face, much like what Kris had done many weeks before.

“Like what you see?” he asks brashly, but his cheeks are flushed red and he's laughing again, bashful, before he sits up and hits Kris on the head with a pillow.

Kris likes him like this, likes how he's honest and unafraid when it's just the two of them. It makes Kris a little more at ease too, less worried that he'll say the wrong thing at the wrong time and more focused on making the moments count.

“I like gold better,” Kris tells him, because it's easy that way, easy to ask for things when Luhan is distracted by him. “It's more my style.”

“To hell with your style,” Luhan replies, but gets Yixing to paint his nails gold the next day anyways.

 

-

 

Kris has a bad habit of omitting unnecessary details, so there's a lot of things he feels he doesn't need to share. Like maybe the reason why he was late for the meeting that got them into this whole mess was because he was still lying on the sheets that morning after a late night out, limbs entangled between Luhan's as the latter breathed softly against his skin, fast asleep. It was irresponsible as hell and Kris still had no idea who the three musicians jumping all over the stage were, but Luhan can be surprisingly persuasive when he wants to be and Kris is just really bad at saying no.

There's also the company dinners, how he keeps bringing Luhan over not because of potential business prospects—that's not the reason, regardless of how often he tells Luhan it is. He's only saying it because it's the only excuse Luhan will agree to anyway—but because he's waiting for his mom to notice and call him out on it, so he'll have an excuse to tell her that yeah, Luhan is his best friend but he's also more than that, and he knows he should have said something but he's never quite sure how to start, but _you've always treated him as a son anyway, mom, it won't really make much of a difference, will it?_

(If he's honest to himself, maybe he'll admit she already knows. Everyone that matters already does anyway, like Tao, Minseok, even if they never mention a thing. And perhaps her disappointment at him coming home alone for New Year's has less to do with the fact that he doesn't bring a girl back and more about him and Luhan still being cowards, unable to confront her with the truth.)

And maybe it's easier if he can somehow get himself untangled, but they've been stuck with each other for so long that Kris doesn't think he remembers how to function without a Luhan around, like maybe the years they've spent merely existing beside each other has caused them to be so tightly interwoven that it's near impossible to pull them apart.

“You mean like cake batter?” Luhan asks the one time Kris decides to voice his thoughts out.

Kris gives him a look. “That sounds stupid.”

“But if it's not stupid, it'll be cheesy,” Luhan retorts, crinkling his nose.

It's a habit: Luhan leans close and smothers him with more attention than he thinks he can handle, but the moment Kris starts returning it he'll start to shy away, deflect it with a careless remark or a stupid joke.

“It's just...” he struggles, “... weird.” A sigh. “I'm sorry.”

Kris understands, more or less. These mild quirks and little habits form their unspoken rules: Don't initiate contact when it's bright and you're awake enough to remember it. Don't make a big deal out of affection. Don't talk about us if you don't think you need to.

Kris has a bad habit of omitting unnecessary details.

But he thinks Luhan has been lax lately. His smile is a bit more open, his touches a lot more frequent, even in a crowd. It's a welcomed change, but it does make him wonder if Luhan is expecting more, if maybe ten years is enough for him to crawl out from the cage he holed himself so deeply in.

Kris tries his luck, takes a chance. He's been doing it a lot recently. Today he walks out of his room, tired and tense from hours of nonstop work, and barges into Luhan's without so much of a greeting. Luhan looks up from his laptop but doesn't say a word.

“Are you stressed?”

Luhan's nails are painted yellow today. Stress is the furthest thing away from his mind.

Sure enough, Luhan shakes his head and throws a grin his way.

“Not even a bit.”

“Oh,” Kris begins awkwardly, “Right.”

They don't fold into each other unless they can provide some sort of excuse for it, so Kris turns around, starts to head for the door. Luhan stops him before he can, fingers curling around his wrist and tugging.

“It's okay,” Luhan tells him. “I don't mind.”

(Because real men won't lean into touches, or give secretive smiles. Real men won't pick out clothes for other guys, won't continue living with another man after others start getting suspicious.

Real men don't paint nails. Real men don't love other men.

But behind closed doors, Luhan has done them all for him, all these and then some. And Kris can't help but think that maybe maybe maybe all Luhan needs to take that extra step is a little push.)

 

-

 

It's midnight when Luhan creeps into his room, lips curved downwards and brows furrowed into a perpetual scowl. His nails are colored blue today. It explains the foul mood. Kris had been asleep but he's a light sleeper, so he moves to make space when Luhan slips under the sheets and stares back when he feels Luhan's gaze trained on him.

“You're supposed to show a serene expression,” Luhan laughs suddenly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Be my muse and all that shit, you know. But now you're just glaring.”

“I'm not glaring,” Kris corrects, “My default face is just angry.”

Another laugh. “This is why people call you an asshole.”

There's that look again, the fond expression Kris always turns away from, always pretends he doesn't see. Luhan wears it so blatantly on his face.

The next time Kris decides to trail him to the salon, Luhan turns around, gives him a look and stops him in his tracks.

“If you're around because you just want to say hi to everyone, proceed,” Luhan says, and Kris blinks, confused. “But if you're following me because you want to get your nails painted and keep me company, you don't have to do that anymore.”

“Jongdae needs me,” Kris deadpans, and then a bit more seriously, “who says I'm only doing it to keep you company?”

Luhan pulls a face. “You don't like it.”

“Maybe,” Kris admits. “But I don't _hate_ it.”

He doesn't hate a lot of things: doesn't hate that Luhan cries for sad movies, screams like a madwoman in haunted houses and is so afraid of heights that he's never been on a roller coaster in his life, doesn't hate that Luhan's confession to him consists of a generic _i think i like guys_ instead of an _i think i like you_ , and he doesn't hate Luhan for putting up a front, for pushing him away in public and keeping Kris hidden like a well-guarded secret.

“I know you don't,” Luhan says softly. “I know that, Yifan. Thank you.”

Why would he hate Luhan, really, when in truth Kris cries and screams just as hard, when he responds to the confession with an _oh okay_ instead of an _i think i like you_ too and thinks that proceeding to kiss him senseless is a good way to make up for lost words, when all those times his colleagues ask him about Luhan Kris chooses to change the subject instead of saying _no, he's not rich at all_?

They've survived ten years, they'll get through a lot more. It's all about taking small steps—baby steps—and Kris starts with this.

“I like you.”

It's long overdue.

Luhan smiles.

“I know that too.”

 

-

 

They're going out for dinner and Luhan has his hands tucked into his pocket, but he's not wearing gloves.

“I think you forgot something,” Kris says, tossing them over to Luhan's direction.

Luhan shakes his head.

“Nah,” he replies, smiling. “It's not that cold.”

Babysteps, Kris thinks, and smiles back.

And Kris may be a bit biased, but he thinks gold looks good on Luhan's fingers.

 

-

 


End file.
